


Glimpses

by Chosca



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Car Sex, Developing Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Secret Relationship, a day in the life, day in the life, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 16:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13663275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chosca/pseuds/Chosca
Summary: Teenie tiny glimpses into the ups and downs of Niall and Harry's relationship. Mostly containing fluff and boyfriendy moments, some of which are based off actual events.





	1. Buzz Buzz

**Author's Note:**

> So these are some one shots and ficlets I've written over the course of like, 4 years? Some are inspired by actual Narry moments that I loved enough to write about, and others are peeks into what I imagine their relationship would be like. Because I adore the idea of real couple situations applied to Niall and Harry, and how they might handle them. I hope you enjoy!

There was a faint, shrill buzz and Harry knew it was his first birthday visit. To be quite honest with himself, he was a little exhausted, and sliding off the couch onto his feet took a lot more effort than it should've. On his way to the door though his spirits are lifted at the possibility his first guest was Niall, or perhaps one of the other boys. It'd been so long since he'd seen them, what with all this time in LA. His belly bubbles with excitement when he reaches the door.

The panel clicks softly as Harry presses and holds the button.

"He-llo?" 

"It's me the pizza man," rings out the familiar Irish patter. Harry grins and his eyes drop to the floor. "and I'm gonna eat your pizza if you don't come n' pick it up."

"I specifically requested there be no Irish delivery boy," Styles replies, heavily, "any pizza I've ever had delivered by an Irishman tastes rubbish."

The boy on the other end of the speaker smiles just as wide in response to Harry's last few words, which were broken into pieces by laughter. "Let me in and I'll give you a discount."

"Ahh, how could I refuse?"

The buzz is louder than before as the gate slowly but surely moves aside. Harry's Los Angeles residence was huge. Niall had only ever been here once before, but the driveway was simple enough to follow. He admires the foliage on his way up. He takes a moment to think about how many of those plants were here before, and how many Harry had planted. Regardless, he couldn't wait to see how many he'd added to his indoor collection.

Niall resists the urge to park haphazardly in his burst of excitement at the sight of those ugly pajama pants. Fashion. 

"C'mere you-!" Niall chokes, throwing his arms around Harry's body and squeezing the life out of him. 

"Christ!" Harry croaks, "You been doing chest presses or what?" He stands back to admire his laughing best friend, seeing someone new. Someone fresh and improved and ready to create. Harry couldn't find a thing wrong in the world.


	2. First Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

When Niall rolls over, his heart leaps. Not a warm pillow, something firm. Still warm, though; he’s attracted to it, and inches closer. Harry’s breathing against Niall’s ear indicates he’s stirring, heavily raising his eyelids enough to peer at Niall.

“Scared me,” Harry rumbles, lifting an arm to scratch at the corner of his eye. His mouth splits into a knowing grin. “Did I scare you?”

“Mate, pissed meself,” Niall jokes, but it’s not at all hostile. Harry gusts out a laugh. Niall lifts his head, so his smirk is visible. “I expected a pillow. S'what I was used to.”

“Just to prove I’m not a pillow,” Harry clarifies, before he plants a kiss on the side of Niall’s forehead. The bed groans softly when he leans back against the cool pillow. It’s not vacant anymore, at least not until Harry decides to go home.

Niall’s never smiled so hard first thing in the morning. Christ, it’s pitiful. In fact, he can’t remember feeling this giddy in ages. About the same duration of time between now and when he was last with Harry, unsurprisingly.

A break always sounded good; from work, from blaring noise. Stopping to smell the roses felt so strange for the first months away. They were all seemingly connected at the waist, the amount of time they all spent with each other. It wasn’t a bad thing, not in the least.

But, Niall remembers as he settles back against the heat and safety of his best friend, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Nothing could’ve illustrated that as clearly to him as the time he spent away from Harry.


	3. He Wants That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barriers in a relationship attempt make things tough.

The ground down next to Harry's side of the bed is very interesting today, apparently. It's clean, notes Harry. That's a good thing. All hotel floors should always be nice. Of course, it's a very expensive hotel, but regardless. Is that a piece of yellow cotton...? Where did that come from? he wonders, focusing solely on the stray colour as the bed dips behind him.

This task becomes ever difficult when he feels a warm, familiar hand rest tenderly on his right laurel. He doesn't want to look down at it, nor does he want to address the chin that's been rudely lowered onto his shoulder.

"Good morning."

It's too much, Harry thinks, tensing up. He remains silent.

Niall's sigh blows a long strand of hair out of place and out on to his cheek. Harry tucks it back in without looking, before Niall does. "You can't be upset with me forever." 

Harry wants to, is the thing. But then he also wants to keep Niall here, wrapped up. Wearing his kisses and his band shirts. He wants to show Niall what he writes during his inspiration all-nighters. He wants to get their shoes mixed up at the front door.

There's nothing that relaxes him more than Niall's laugh, especially after Harry makes a joke that nobody else in the room finds funny. He loves his mouth and his warm cheeks and his willpower. He likes how, despite it all, Niall still makes an effort to go home to Ireland. He likes his softness; the kind in his hair, the kind on his skin. The kind in his eyes.

Harry wants Niall. He wants him...but he can't have him, can he? He can never have him.

Harry doesn't notice the tear on his cheek until Niall's shaky thumb is touching it. 

"I'm sorry," Niall breathes, and then his warm touch is no longer there.


	4. Vest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know you remember. :)

"A vest like that," says Niall, "it's so fluffy like...I want to hug you or somethin'. It's a cuddle trap."

Harry looks at him without saying much for a little bit, a smirk and a squint of the eyes Niall knows indicates one of two things. He's either about to make some dumb innuendo that was mostly just awkward, or. He's going to pretend to be offended about something.

"Did you just call me a cuddle trap?"

No matter how hard he tries Harry's smirk only widens. Niall's never met anyone quite like him, someone so fond of being teased. Maybe it's just a Niall thing. Either way, it always worked out, because he liked to make fun of Harry.

"I did," he announces, "in fact you're luring me in right now. Like one a' those fly plants."

"Venus," Harry says, dragging out the word as he does, "fly trap."

"That's what I am. Or what you are, actually."

"Are you gonna give me a cuddle or are you just gonna keep stalling?"

Niall resists poking his tongue out like a child and rubs the front of the vest, before he's tucking his arm underneath Harry's, sliding it easily around him. Harry extends his own arm across Niall's shoulders and they're proper closed in. Near and warm and comfortable as they walk a little together. The vest feels just as soft and warm as it looks, but. That never mattered, did it?


	5. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anxiety can either push or pull someone.

Harry tugs Niall's shirt down his shoulder, allowing him to finish peeling the fabric off him. The shoulders were always so tight in these kinds of fancy shirts, made getting his arms out a lot harder, but when he's tired there's no doubt it's a real pain in the arse. Niall's eyelids shut, exhaustion lying heavily over his shoulders. The anxiety really took its toll this time, draining him of his energy moreso than the actual concert itself.

"S'like you're five again," Harry comments softly as to not offend him, flagging the shirt out and neatly folding it. Niall half-smiles, rubbing his eye with a shrug.

"Feels a bit too stressful for that, if I'm honest."

"Hey," Harry croons, eyes trained on Niall as he bends to his knees and sits back, heels to bum. He lays a sympathetic, ringed hand on Niall's thigh. The metal's a little cool, even with his pants on. "Not long to go now, is it? Couple more shows and you can sleep for weeks at a time."

Niall blinks in the dimness of his hotel room. He still isn't sure whether or not Harry's sticking around tonight. Bit like his very own comfort pillow, one of those electric ones that heat up. One that can talk back and tell him it's gonna be alright, that he did well tonight in front of their tiny crowd.

Niall lets himself fall the short distance forward, his forehead gently situating in the space between Harry's neck and his shoulder. The scrunch of the new material bunches there, just beneath his collar. Niall decides, cloudy as his mind is, that he doesn't particularly enjoy that texture, but he knows he enjoys Harry. He smells lovely. A strand of hair curls at Niall's temple and it tickles a little.

"I love you," he mumbles, not exactly trusting his mouth to keep up, as it follows the example of everything else in his body and makes an effort to stay still. He feels Harry's arms hook around him, carefully like he understands. He's moving in until he slots with Niall, like the puzzle piece he's always been.

"Love you too, mate."


	6. You Stayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realising how much you mean to someone, because they don't talk enough to make it obvious.

"I'm different."

Harry looks up. Niall's staring at him.

"Pardon?"

"I'm different. Everyone you've ever been with..." Niall turns to look at the ground. He shakes his head in disbelief. Harry spies the pink creeping up Niall's neck. "..you get bored with. You have places to see and people to talk to. All these years you never stayed in the same place, s'like...you're always movin'."

It's Harry's turn to stare. His throat becomes a little dry. It's true. He can't find the words, so he stays quiet.

"To be honest," Niall continues, "I don't know what to call it.." he visibly drifts a little, swallowing, starting elsewhere, "with me, you go away like you do with everyone else, but..."

Harry reaches out, touching Niall's arm, soft as a feather. Niall gets goosebumps.

"You keep coming back."


	7. Not Allowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My heart is not your plaything.

Niall enters the dark room, closing and locking the door behind himself carefully before reaching for the light. His blood runs cold when, instead of the switch, he touches a finger. Just when he's about to startle he's grabbed and pushed against the wall; his heart's about to beat right out of his chest. He wants to scream, but he's frozen in place, frantically searching his mind for some kind of defense training.

Then, the light turns on. It's Harry, staring at him centeredly with those angry, arched brows obscuring his eyelashes.

"Jesus Chr..." Niall stops to breathe, entirely spooked. His arms slowly get their feeling back. "how d-did-"

"Where were you?"

Niall pauses for a long time. He should've expected this so soon. "I was out-"

"Where WERE you?" Harry snaps, smacking the wall hard enough to scare Niall into aggression.

"As if you don't already know!" Niall snaps right back, "I know it's all the fuck over twitter. I know for a fact it's-"

"Why?" Harry asks, beginning to falter. Niall looks at him, removes the glasses from the top of his head. His eyes find the ground. The crack in Harry's voice always gets him.

Without receiving a reply, Harry looks crestfallen. It takes a second for the anger to seep in all over again.

"You're such..." he begins, hands balling into furious fists. "You're a..."

"Spit it out Styles." Niall hisses, teeth grit.

Harry could just about explode. It makes Niall even angrier, knowing the words are there, waiting, but won't leave his mouth. He always does this. 

"A slut." Niall spits for him. The words are so sharp, cutting into the air, but not the tension. Harry's breathing becomes shallow. His eyes are almost black. He looks despondent and upset. Niall knows it's his fault but he just keeps going. "An attention craving, touch seeking....adrenaline.." Niall narrows his eyes at the floor, swallows. "..slag."

Harry looks away, curling the hand on the wall inwards until his fingernails drag across the surface. His tongue slides over his teeth, visibly. "Yeah."

Niall grabs him by the wrist, but Harry uses the grip to turn them both around so they're nearing the middle of the room. "Yeah?" Niall growls, snatching his hand away. "So?"

Harry looks incredulous as Niall continues. "I'm young, Harry. I'm 22 fuckin' years old. I'm not tied down," - Harry winces, despite himself - "and in some weird twist of fate I happen to have enough money to travel, and meet people. I'm allowed-"

"You are NOT allowed to do what you've been doing!" booms Harry. He charges forward until Niall's backed up against something he can't see. Harry's face has changed completely, it's terrifying. "You are absolutely not!"

Niall frowns, putting the act forward, but. The discomfort is easy to see.

"You're not," Harry hisses, voice crackling with the pitch. His anger toward Niall always flares, burns out, flares. It's killing him, it's tiring him out.

"Not to them. Not to me."


	8. Tiptoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are best left uncomplicated.

Niall shuts the door as quietly as he can, silently making his way over to Harry's bed. It was 3, maybe 4 in the morning, it wasn't surprising to see Harry snoring away.

The moment Niall sits on the bed, Harry takes a big breath and squirms. Niall freezes, waiting patiently until the boy is still again before he shifts over, digging his feet into the covers near the end of the bed. Gently, he wraps his arm around Harry's body and wriggles up against him.

"What," Harry croaks. "What."

"What?" Niall says, knowing it's all Harry needs to recognize his voice and relax into his touch. "Go back to sleep."

Niall grunts as Harry ignores him, twisting around to lie on his back and look up at his friend. He throws his arm across his forehead and sighs. "You woke me."

"I tried not to," Niall retorts softly. He settles down in the pillow half sprawled across Harry's body, jaw pressed against his shoulder. Harry is very warm, despite having nothing but a pair of boxer briefs on. His long curls brush against Niall's ear.

"Mm," Harry sighs, relocating his arm over Niall's and turning his head to press a kiss to his forehead. With such a drowsy, languid atmosphere, there were often short pauses between remarks, making it a rather slow conversation. Neither of them were complaining.

"Hair smells nice."

Niall smiles against Harry's clavicle, enjoying the sound of his deep and creaky sleep voice. For some reason or other, it feels...comfortable. Pleasant. "Washed it."

"Mm," Harry says again. 

Silence falls between them for so long that if Harry wasn't a snorer, Niall'd assume he'd gone back to sleep. His own eyelids are drooping, threatening to finally let him get some rest when..

"How are you?" Harry asks, dragging his fingers up the length of Niall's arm and making him shudder. Goosebumps prickle across his skin at the contact.

"How am I?" Niall parrots, a little annoyed that he remains awake, even now. He can't be fucked answering such a loaded question at this time of morning. "I dunno."

"I mean...you okay?" His tone suggests he feels kinda guilty, kinda concerned. Niall couldn't be bothered figuring out why, not this close to slumber. The fact that Harry's voice interrupted his attempt at sleep was frustrating, but if he spoke quietly enough, his slow, gentle drawl might be about as decent as a lullaby. 

"Couldn't sleep," Niall sighs, his voice fading with every word. His eyes close again, just as Harry pulls him further up his body. Using his toes to grip the blanket, he yanks it from where it was wedged at the foot of the bed, pulling the covers up over their bodies with Niall's aid. They're out like candles, in no less than a couple seconds.  
Harry always seems to know how it works. Climbing into each other's beds was therapeutic, the cheapest way of reassuring their rest when they couldn't get any shuteye. No matter the hour, they find themselves in each other's hotel rooms, their bunks, their houses. It'd been this way for years.

Neither Niall nor Harry stop to think why.


	9. Holding on to a Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one gets explicit, so, warning! <3

"Christ, fuck."

Harry arched his back, making himself more comfortable against the driver's seat. Each time Niall parked his ass down on his lap he seemed to slide down further, but he couldn't help it. Getting leverage was hard when you were trying not to hurt your partner, or honk the horn accidentally.

"Yeah," Niall whispers huskily, bouncing downward with a slap, slap, slap. "Nnghfuck."

"Yeah," Harry echoes, his ring clad fingers gripping the fabric of Niall's shirt tightly. He reaches around and gives Niall's arse a weak slap, clenching his jaw as Niall keens softly.

"Your arse is cold."

"It's fuckin' freezin' in here," Niall growls, hooking his arm around the back of Harry's shoulders. 

"Should I turn the heater on?"

If Niall wasn't desperately chasing his orgasm, he would've stopped to give Harry an exasperated look. He tries to laugh, but he's breathing too hard. "Don't do that," he rolls his hips and Harry's breath hitches, "The car's not even on.."

"I could turn it on if you'd-"

"No," Niall groans, shutting him up with his mouth. The kisses are wet and a little sloppy but they're not complaining, mutually enjoying the intimacy of it more than anything else. Niall grinds down painfully slow, until Harry's buried to the hilt, and starts fucking himself again. Harry presses his hands flat across Niall's asscheeks, letting himself get lost in the bliss, until his bandmate hisses in pain. It was a different noise to the ones he'd already been making; Harry picked up on it immediately.

"Hey..you alright?"

Niall takes long enough to answer for Harry to make assumptions, "Knee?" he asks, "backseat?"

Niall scowls and doesn't make eye contact, refusing to stop moving. He pulls Harry's face closer by the arm he had around his shoulders and picks up the pace. "It's fine-" but he jolts, baring his teeth and sucking air in. No doubt about it.

"Backseat." Harry decides, and despite himself Niall slides off Harry's lap and onto the glovebox. This'd happened last time too, but there would always be something in the way mid-fuck. It was difficult to maintain a healthy schedule (if you could even call it that) when the only ones who knew about your escapades were 2/3 of your band. The other times consisted mostly of being caught...but Harry kinda got off on that.

"Hop on through," Harry mutters, opening the door and shuffling out with his pants all bunched up at his ankles. He looked a right dipstick.   
"You look a right dipstick."

"Shh."

Niall manuevers himself into the back seat, laughing. Harry closes the front door and opens the back one, waiting until Niall assumes his position before he climbs inside. There was more room for adjustment, that way.

"Hurry it up, before the lads come back."

Harry smirks, prompting Niall to roll his eyes. "Not so sure I would mind."

Niall hooks his fingers beneath his knees and presses his legs to his chest, huffing out a giggle. "Can you _imagine_ the look on Preston's face? Fuck's sake."

Harry chortles, manhandling Niall further towards him on the seat. "Come here already." He leans down to press kisses to Niall's throat as he eases back in. It's not long before they're back into the groove of things, Niall having to hold on to Harry's forearm to stop himself from sliding up the seat. They couldn't be louder than they were before, but keeping their voices down was proving to be rather hard.

"I'm gonna cum," Niall whimpers, massaging the tip of his cock as Harry tugged closer to the base. His voice lifted several octaves, he had a habit of doing that at this stage. "Oh Christ I-I'm gonna cum."

"Cum for me," Harry hisses in his ear. He works his whole body into harder thrusts, grunting and whining into Niall's ear as he attempts to catch up. His hand speeds up on Niall's prick, helping him along, before Irish is squirting on his stomach and scrambling to lift his shirt up in time.

Harry closes his eyes and listens to the delicious groans that come with Niall, his dick jumping as he thrusts a couple more times and pulls out. Niall helps him roll off the condom and shoves his shirt further up, anticipating it. 

"Ohh fuck," Harry whines, voice gravelly and rough like he's whispering, " _oh fuck_."

Harry's cum is thicker, landing in gooey ribbons across Niall's pale tummy and bellybutton. Niall holds his arm through the shuddering, pressing their cheeks up against one another. 

Their heavy breathing seemed to make the air thicker, steamier. At least Niall wasn't cold anymore. 

"Hey," Harry chuckles with a wobble, eyeing the window behind Niall's head. Niall knew for a fact that he was about to say something stupid; that tone indicated as much. What made it all the more irritating was that Harry always made him guess. Every time. He stares down at Niall with a goofy expression, open mouth, waiting for his response.

Niall sighs. "What."

"Want me to make a handprint on the window hey?" 

Christ. He was so proud of himself, too. Niall decides that that's the reason he laughs.


End file.
